deepundergroundpoetry.com
My car
My car is grey,
My car is grand,
The key fits just right in your hand,
The dash is oak,
The wheel is too,
and Its boot lining is blue,
The windows are dark,
The leather is light,
The steering and brakes are tight,
The sunroof is big,
The gear shifter is small,
This car is great even if you’re tall,
The key is a cylinder,
The alarm is loud,
To own this car makes me so very proud,
It may be British,
It may be small,
But it thrives in the urban sprawl,
It was built for speed,
It was built for class,
One thing It isn’t is crass,
It doesn’t have a turbo,
So it has no no lag,
Blessed be,
It’s a Jag.
My car is grand,
The key fits just right in your hand,
The dash is oak,
The wheel is too,
and Its boot lining is blue,
The windows are dark,
The leather is light,
The steering and brakes are tight,
The sunroof is big,
The gear shifter is small,
This car is great even if you’re tall,
The key is a cylinder,
The alarm is loud,
To own this car makes me so very proud,
It may be British,
It may be small,
But it thrives in the urban sprawl,
It was built for speed,
It was built for class,
One thing It isn’t is crass,
It doesn’t have a turbo,
So it has no no lag,
Blessed be,
It’s a Jag.
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